Diary Entries
by 0utlier
Summary: Diary entries by different characters. Multiple POVs.


**Hey guys; thanks for reading! Please review! This was originally an English assignment. **

_**Scout after her first day of school.**_

**Atticus POV**

My daughter looked adorable as she frolicked home from the schoolyard in her lilywhite dress and uneven and untidy pigtails that were undoubtedly a result of Calpurnia and things that had created animosity between she and Scout at dawn-for Scout, my stubborn but endearing daughter, would skin a dog before willingly wearing anything but her holy britches that I thought made her all the more stunning and all the more like her mother and yet also all the more similar to me.

I was a simple man. I did not dwell on subjects that may or may not become problematic in the future and did not become entranced by simple beauties; I was not one with ulterior motives and existential dilemmas but a simple man with a daily routine and principles I struggled to abide by. Yet as I watched little Scout with a troubled look in her eyes and determined expression upon her face I conceded to the belief that while we were so similar, while she often took after me and regarded my teachings with complete attention, it was times like these when I could not fathom what she was thinking. My daughter, however, _was _complicated—anything _but _simple.

Calpurnia stopped her on the way in the house and while I could not hear what they were saying, it was entertaining enough to watch Scout's facial expressions change from the grim air around her that was so unlike her to a confused mentality that also was not like her. Scout was someone who was always eager to learn and explore; someone who never stayed put. She investigated everything and wasn't afraid to ask questions; her innocence was one of the best things about her. Scout left little to ponder.

After supper I sat down with the paper and she eventually she entered the living room. When I asked her if she was ready to read I was astonished to hear her answer. After telling me that she simply didn't feel well and that she didn't want to go to school anymore, my confusion about her cleared up. I hadn't forgotten—it was her first day of school today. I had expected that she'd enjoy Miss Caroline's teachings—after all, she had never strayed from learning before.

Scout continued on to say that Miss Caroline disliked that we read every night—something that after a moment of pondering I could understand. This was her first year of teaching; it made sense that having all of her plans thrown off course could make the young woman feel frazzled and jumbled as to where to continue on to. As I always said, you never could understand a person until you climbed into their skin and walked around in it. Much to her dismay, school was mandatory. But that didn't mean I'd make her stop reading.

_**Jem's thoughts/reactions after finding the knot-hole had been cemented up.**_

**Jem POV**

I refused to cry. It was completely out of the realm of the possibility. I reckoned that Scout would start crying if I did and I had to be strong for her; I was as sure of that as I was sure that I was standing here. It was my job to be as her brother—I was not a child anymore, one that was beguiled in incorruptibility and fairytales. I was becoming a man—it was not time for childish sentiments, not when they would create an outburst from Scout, a young girl and also my sister, who was so fascinated by her state of bliss. I murmured soft reassurances to her, hoping to keep the tears away. I felt my face go white.

Yet, I held strong for Scout. There was little to be done for my distraught feelings or for Scout's, so I settled for attempting to comfort her on our way to school. When the day had finally ended and we'd arrived at home for dinner, where I neglected my food and ran to the porch, standing on the steps. Several seconds later I realized that Scout had followed me, which added to my troubled feelings. I didn't need a child here. In the end, it didn't matter because Mr. Radley never showed.

I didn't give up easily. I reckoned that that was something Atticus would appreciate; my father valued things like that heavily, something I respected; something every man should respect. The next day I resumed the same behavior and was rewarded, much to my delight. It would finally give me a chance to gain answers.

Or so I thought.

Mr. Radley gave me no answers. I didn't give up easily—and I didn't believe that the tree had been dying, especially when after a long afternoon of working myself into a bad humor, Atticus had said that the tree had looked healthy to him. Later, I cried. I cried because I didn't understand. I didn't understand why Atticus had seen nothing wrong with the tree, but Nathan Radley had. I cried because I didn't know why the world was so strange, and why it made no sense. And lastly, I cried because we had lost our last link to whoever had left us the gifts—our last link to Boo Radley.

_**Miss Maudie after her house burned down. **_

**Miss Maudie POV**

I expected to feel sorrow run through me; to see memories flash in my mind's eye. But I didn't. Mostly I just felt a sense of appreciation overwhelm me. The fire was beautiful. Almost entrancing. The way it glowed and burned, the smoke filling the air like stars filled the sky. I should have felt something-should have felt fear or anxiousness; but I didn't.

People ran to help me, collecting furniture and other items from my house, but I couldn't move as I watched it burn. I knew that people assumed it was of fear—and gave me pity; after all, I was an old lady whose home and everything had just gone up in flames. All I could feel was joy—silly, irrational joy.

The Abbottsvile fire truck began pumping water; young men working in pajama tops and nightshirts stuffed into their pants. I stared at the smoking black hole in my yard, grateful when Atticus shook his head to tell his children, Jem and Scout, that now was not a time I wished to speak. For now I just needed to stare, to watch my house fall to pieces.

Later the children came by to help, for which I was grateful. The time to be alone had passed and I was glad for the company. Those children were adorable and I was happy to have them around. They seemed confused when they asked me if I was grievin' and I said that I wasn't—because that was the truth. It amused me when they apologized because I knew that they were apologizing for a blessing.

Scout's worry touched my heart, especially because I knew that good ol' Atticus had told her that my house was nearly all I had. Unable to let her fret over an old lady, I said that I'd build myself my own little house and take me a couple of roomers… and then I'd have the finest yard in Alabama. I reckoned I was a dreamer, but I couldn't help myself and when I believed my own words, I wasn't lying in any shape or form. I still felt relief because I'd been so tired of that old house and had always wanted more room for land.

I couldn't help but laugh as I saw confusion appear on little Scout's face as I questioned her of the children's affairs. Little did they know that I was a crazy old lady with many plans.

Yet as they walked away, I saw that they _did _know.

But to them that was just Miss Maudie.

_**Atticus reflecting on having to shoot the mad dog with the children seeing a different side to him that they did not know. **_

**Atticus POV**

I stared at the clock on the wall, watching the hand moving slowly. It seemed to hardly move at all. I reckoned that it'd move faster if I directed my attention to something else, but if I did I'd actually have to start thinking again, something I didn't want to do at the given moment. In my mind I kept hearing a gunshot and then familiar cheering; I kept hearing "One-shot Finch" getting murmured throughout the crowd. There was nothing I could do to ease the repetitive white noise, and I felt myself growing more and more exasperated. That was not who I was, I was sure as I was sitting here; but what if it was? Surely it was only a part, a side of me that hadn't been unveiled until know. I was a patient man. A patient, respectable man with a clear line of right and wrong. I was not perfect; God knew I wasn't, but I'd done my best in this life I was living and was at peace with that; I'd done right by my children, as right as I'd known, and that was enough.

Impatience was something that was often foreign to me, as was anger and impertinence. But as I heard Jem and Scout converse back and forth and picked out words of their conversation; words that said they were proud and felt as if I was something to brag about; that my act of violence—that shooting the mad dog had been a rare and beautiful thing, something requiring skill instead of seeing it as a tragedy, instead of seeing it as a life lost, albeit a sick one.

They'd seen me as a dull, hardworking man, one that was feeble and weak, no one extraordinary. Just their father; no one special. Yet after they'd seen me shoot that gun their views had shifted; I'd seen it in their eyes. I'd turned from ordinary to extraordinary. They'd seen a different side of me, one that was quick on its feet; calm in tragedy—a good man in a storm. They'd seen a man who could shoot a gun; whose aim was dead on.

I wasn't sure if I should be glad or sad that I'd brought them one step closer to losing their innocence. They could appreciate the man with a gun all they wanted, but that wasn't who I really was. Instead I chose to be at peace. I did not like guns. I believed that it wasn't fair for me to have an upper hand against living things and a long time ago I'd decided that I wouldn't shoot again until I absolutely had to. And I'd had to.

I found this feat amusing and bittersweet. They were so young and yet so old at the same time. Despite this realization, I did not get up—I just sat in my chair and stared up at the clock, nodding to the music that didn't play.

I would never shoot at a mockingbird.

_**Dill after he runs away from home and hides under Scout's bed. **_

**Dill POV**

I knew doing this was bad. I knew that I should have stayed home, stayed with my new parents, parents that I knew were the best I'd ever had. They were kind to me and made sure I had what I needed. I'd never had that before but I couldn't help but think that they didn't… they didn't _need _me. They were everything I'd ever wanted…and yet not enough. That was the problem with life; nothing could be worse than thinking you wanted something so badly and then finding out that it was exactly what you _didn't _want, I reckoned. It was silly and sad and selfish, but I wanted to… I wanted to be _loved. _And _needed. _And _missed. _

After I'd been discovered by Jem and Scout I'd told them a long story of some epic adventure that hadn't really happened, leaving out why I'd _really _left. Jem surprised me when he'd alerted Atticus of my arrival and I hadn't pretended that this did not frighten me. Scout reassured me that everything was fine and I appreciated that, but I refused to appear weak in front of _her _of all people.

I expected Atticus to demand answers or threaten to call the police, but he did neither, and as I was learning, Atticus surprised a whole lot of people. Instead he told Scout to get me some food and reassured me with a kind and gentle expression that no one was going to make me go anywhere when I'd begged him to not send me back to Aunt Rachel. Again I'd expected him to say that was exactly what he'd do, but he hadn't.

I ate and ate and ate, only feeling slightly guilty of all the food I was consuming. I hadn't eaten since last night, as I'd used all my money for a ticket. I couldn't help but feel some of my guilt and sadness disperse as I heard Aunt Rachel over the phone, her moods ever-changing—something I _had _expected. People had told me that her ramblings were one of her most endearing personality traits and I reckoned it was not my place to disagree.

Scout and I quickly decided to make peace with Jem, after all, if I had to sleep with him, I might as well talk to him. I was still slightly miffed that he'd broken the honorary code of childhood but who was I to judge? If I was sharing his bed I couldn't exactly harbor unkind thoughts toward him. Later, I made my way to Scout's bed where we talked for hours. I found myself opening up to her, telling her the _real _reason I'd left. It did not feel like I was burdening her but like I was sharing information with her, something we'd done all of our lives.

I'd meant it when I'd said I was gonna marry her someday.


End file.
